“You need to think this through.” She gripped the lapels of his jacket. “I’m telling you, even if you scream in his face, he’s not going to budge. So are you going to put a gun to his head or something? Because I don’t think even that would do it.”
Wrath stayed silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head. “I have faith in him.”
Beth recoiled. “And I hate saying this about our own son, but why? How?”
Herhellrenbrushed at her hair, tucking a stray wave behind her ear. “There’s something under the anger, and that is what’s going to see him through.”
“How do you know this?”
Wrath’s head shifted so it was as if he were staring over her shoulder. “Because that’s the way it was for me. All he needs is something—or someone—to bring it out of him.”
“Even if that were true, what if he dies before that happens?” She squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh, God, what if I—we…what ifwelose him now.”
As they both pulled into an embrace at the same time, the two-way support was what she had missed all those years. What she had yearned for. What she had been cheated of. They couldn’t change the outcome of so much, but at least she wasn’t alone anymore. In fact, she was with the one person who understood exactly what she was feeling.
With that, she thought of the six families that were never going to be the same after tonight—
Footsteps quickly approaching cut her off, and she had a brief flare of hope that it was L.W., not just back, but making sense.
It wasn’t. Of course.
Qhuinn and John Matthew entered the bedroom, and God, she was getting so worn down seeing that grim expression on people’s faces.
“They found the two males,” Qhuinn said roughly.
Chapter Fifteen
One year and six months ago...
Caldwell’s back alleys were just as Beth remembered them, run with grime, scattered with trash, and dark in the way that made you look over your shoulder even with all the ambient glow from the Financial District. The lightning that kept flashing overhead didn’t help the danger vibe, and every time her shadow wheeled around on the cracked pavement at her feet, she felt like it was trying to get away from her.
She had two weapons. A gun that was in her hand on the right, the nine-millimeter autoloader fully loaded and ready to fire, and a dagger that was holstered at the small of her back under her loose jacket.
As she walked along, she kept things toe-heel so that she made no noise, but there was no one anywhere around to hear.
That she knew of.
Up ahead, at the terminus of the alley she was going down, cars passed by one at a time, with long breaks in between. Then again, it was three a.m. on a Wednesday—it was Wednesday, wasn’t it? God, she didn’t know what day it was. Maybe it was Tuesday.
Who the hell knew.
She stopped. Glanced behind herself—
The wind changed, and the sickly-sweet scent of dead meat wafted into her nose. As she tightened her grip on the gun,sweat broke out beneath her clothes, gathering under her arms and across her chest. What the hell was she doing out here?
Oh. Dumpster.
Not alesser.
As she kept going, her eyes lingered on the boat-sized bin. Its top was cracked, the garbage overflowing. With the July sun baking everything during the day, and the temperatures not going down much at night, there was more than enough heat to ferment things, and the stench was god-awful.
Not quite sweet enough, though. And that baby powder whiff was missing.
When she came to the narrow lane’s end, she hesitated. Every five nights, the Audience House closed to give the staff time off, and since April, she had started using those hours to scour the field. But she hadn’t caught L.W. yet.
He was fighting, though. Back over the winter, she’d found bloody bandages under his bed, the scent mostly contained by the Rubbermaid container he’d sealed them up in. She hadn’t liked snooping through his room, but given how shifty he was and the safety concerns? Fine, she’d violate his privacy. And naturally, when she’d confronted him, he’d said it was just an injury he’d sustained while sparring.
Then why hide it, she’d demanded.
